After leaving Renee's house, Luke and the others headed to the home of the third missing person—Ben.
Ben was a hunter in the village. He went out now and then to hunt, had no wife and no children, and after leaving ten days ago, he never came back.
His disappearance at least sounded somewhat plausible. Hunting was dangerous work. If something happened out there, there wasn't much anyone could do.
Inside Ben's home, plenty of beast pelts and bones hung on the walls, like trophies from his own hands.
"Ben was an old hunter with tons of wilderness experience. We never imagined something would happen even to him." Ander sighed uneasily. "Maybe it's just a coincidence, but three people vanishing within twenty days… everyone in the village is terrified."
Luke looked around and noticed a recurve bow hanging from a wall hook. It had clear signs of use—obviously Ben's regular weapon.
So Luke submitted the bow to the Godspeed Tracking Decree.
The result was still the same: out of service range.
Which meant this hunter was probably dead too.
He put the bow back where it belonged and walked outside.
Everyone followed, totally confused—none of them understood what he'd just done.
"Your Highness… did you find anything?" Ander asked carefully from behind.
Luke shook his head. "No."
Missing-person cases were the hardest. Too many unknowns, and now every lead had snapped.
The only thing he could confirm was that all three missing people were already dead.
As for whether their disappearances were unrelated accidents or connected… there was no way to tell.
A case like this—honestly, even Columbo himself might not be able to crack it.
Ander sighed again, his expression saying he'd expected as much, but he didn't look disappointed. "Thank you for the trouble, Your Highness. People from the city came three times, and it was basically the same as you. There just aren't enough clues—no one can make a call."
They were walking along the village street when Frey's expression suddenly turned strange, like she'd smelled something. Her brow furrowed hard.
"No… there's the scent of dark creatures."
Vayne instantly went on alert. She didn't doubt her teacher for a second.
Luke turned toward Frey, about to ask—
"AAAAH!!!"
A piercing scream—packed with terror and pain—shattered the quiet of Kerr Village, loud enough to ring across the streets.
The sudden incident startled everyone.
Luke and the others sprinted toward the sound.
When they arrived, they saw a woman collapsed on the ground. Her neck was drenched in blood. The light in her eyes was fading by the second, her body jerking in weak spasms.
She clearly didn't have long.
"Th-there's a monster!"
"Carly got attacked by a monster!"
"She's going to die—someone save her!"
Villagers who'd rushed over were all pale with fear, and the sight of the woman's condition only made it worse.
No one knew what to do.
And then—a shadow that looked half-human, half-beast vaulted over the village wall and vanished into the forest, fleeing at terrifying speed.
In that short moment, it had already covered more than a hundred meters.
Luke didn't hesitate. He raised the bow, pulled the string to full draw, calculated the distance, aimed for a heartbeat—
And released.
The bowstring snapped straight with a sharp twang.
"Whoosh!"
The arrow tore through the air, appearing behind the fleeing shadow in the blink of an eye. Just as it was about to hit, the creature twisted back and swatted it aside with one palm.
Luke frowned. He didn't fire again—he looked to Frey instead.
"You two chase it. Don't let it get away!"
Frey nodded firmly and surged forward. She was a demon hunter—chasing things down was what she did best.
Vayne shot Luke a quick look and immediately followed Frey.
The two of them vaulted the village wall and pursued the monster, following the trail of blood it left behind.
Luke didn't waste time either. He crouched, pulled a small box from his pack, and took out silver needles one by one.
His movements were fast and practiced, hands steady as he drove several needles into Carly's neck. The blood that had been spraying out stopped almost instantly.
Then he uncorked a small vial and sprinkled its powder over the wound—deep, ragged, like something had torn into it with teeth.
"AAAH!!"
Carly finally reacted. Pain hit her like a wave—she screamed, and the wound hissed as if it had been burned.
The spasms stopped. Her eyes rolled shut, and she passed out on the spot.
The powder mixed with blood, and within moments it began to seal into a scab. Luke reached out and removed the needles.
Then he stood and gave Ander instructions.
"She fainted from blood loss. Get her settled somewhere safe. Wrap the wound with bandages. Bed rest for a month. If you've got anything to help her rebuild blood, use it."
Ander, stunned, hurriedly nodded. "Yes, Your Highness!"
The villagers behind them stared wide-eyed, voices spilling into breathless amazement.
They'd seen the wound on Carly's neck and assumed she was done for.
But in the short time Luke had been there, he'd saved her.
It felt unreal.
Once he'd stabilized her, Luke got up to catch up to Frey and Vayne.
He hopped the wall with ease, tracking footprints and blood on the ground.
Yurna silently stayed at his side, and the two of them hurried forward.
Frey, skilled at pursuit, had already driven the chase deep into the wild.
Along the way, Luke spotted the signal marks Frey and Vayne left behind, confirming they were on the right trail.
Ahead lay dense forest—quiet to an unsettling degree. Only the sound of hurried footsteps crunching through fallen leaves remained, a constant hush-hush-hush.
There wasn't even any wind. As time passed, Luke pressed deeper into the woods.
Before long, he and Yurna regrouped with Frey and Vayne.
They'd stopped the chase.
Frey was crouched low, frowning as she inspected signs on the ground.
When she saw Luke, she rose and said, "The scent gets messy here. I can't separate it cleanly."
Luke glanced around. The atmosphere felt inexplicably grim—too quiet, too wrong, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
It was still morning, and sunlight filtered down through the canopy, offering a thin illusion of safety.
Thin enough to tear.
After a moment, he asked, "What was that thing earlier?"
Frey answered, "Probably a demon—one of the bloodsuckers."
Luke asked, "Is it strong?"
Frey hesitated. "They're born from black-magic corruption. They like drinking human blood. It… shouldn't be that dangerous."
Luke chewed on that. "That 'shouldn't' was really doing a lot of work."
If a sentence came with words like should, probably, maybe—he preferred to trust only half of it.
Frey sighed, helpless. "Demons are hard to measure. It depends on how much dark power they've absorbed, and what type they are."
"Bloodsuckers are low-tier demons. The more blood they drink, the stronger they get. But I don't think it's going to be that bad."
Luke nodded as if he understood, then asked, "And if there are a lot of them?"
His sixth sense was buzzing—a warning that wouldn't go away.
Frey froze for a beat, then her face changed.
"Vayne—get ready!"
As she spoke, she raised her weapons: an Icebone Blade from Freljord that looked heavy with power and viciously sharp, and a wrist-mounted hand crossbow.
Now she smelled it too—dark-creature stench, thickening fast in the air.
It made her skin crawl.
Vayne didn't hesitate. She snapped fully alert—then her eyes narrowed, hatred igniting.
Three bloodsuckers were crouched around them, watching like predators.
Luke got his first clear look at one up close. Calling it ugly felt generous: a mouth full of fangs, not quite human, not quite beast—twisted, deformed, wrapped in faint black vapor. Its eyes were milky white, like pupils had never existed.
And around them were four massive beasts, shaped like wolves, tigers, and panthers. Their eyes held a disturbingly human glint—burning with savage hostility—and you could almost make out traces of human features on their bodies.
They weren't normal animals.
Shapeshifters.
The word flashed through Vayne's mind. Her face turned to ice, her eyes full of loathing and disgust.
These corrupted shapeshifters, driven by dark magic, burned their own bodies to squeeze out strength far beyond ordinary people.
They used to be human.
But the moment they offered themselves to dark power for strength, they stopped being human in every way that mattered.
Demons. Black magic. Dark mages. Wraiths. Shapeshifters.
Vayne hated them all.
And even knowing how deep this world's darkness ran, she'd never seen a lineup like this.
Seven dark creatures at once.
The air itself felt heavier the moment they appeared.
Even Frey's grim expression showed the worry in her chest—this wasn't a situation she'd expected either.
Vayne's black eyes overflowed with hatred. There wasn't a trace of fear—if anything, something like battle-lust stirred inside her.
Luke swept his gaze across the ring of monsters and exhaled quietly. He knew he'd been careless.
But if they hadn't chased, they might've lost the only real lead.
Annoying.
Still, seeing the pressure these creatures gave off, he slowly drew his weapon.
Steel slid from its scabbard with a harsh, grating sound—like a signal.
All seven dark creatures opened their mouths and charged.
The fight exploded into motion.
Several rushed straight for Luke, feral eyes locked onto him like he was dinner, fangs flashing.
Frey and Vayne fired bolts immediately, but they couldn't move to shield Luke—two monsters split off and pounced at them, forcing them to respond.
That left five—five—bearing down on Luke.
He truly didn't understand it.
Was being handsome really that attractive to monsters?
Damn it—my irresistible good looks have nowhere to go.
The two fastest were already within five meters, launching their strikes—
And the figure beside Luke moved.
Yurna stepped calmly in front of him. A cold glint flashed in her hand as she slashed a bloodsucker's swinging arm.
Blood sprayed. The bloodsucker was blasted backward by the sheer force and sent flying.
Only then did Luke realize: at some point, Yurna had drawn a black short blade, wickedly sharp.
He'd never once seen her pull out a weapon before. For the first time, he couldn't help wondering where she'd been hiding it all this time.
His eyes flicked, almost instinctively, toward the hem of her skirt.
As she lifted her leg, the skirt rose, revealing a long, straight thigh in black stockings—an indecently elegant contrast with the violence she was delivering.
Her other leg snapped up—
And the next instant, she drove a kick into a shapeshifter's chest.
"Boom!"
Bone cracked. The shapeshifter's body launched backward, slamming into a tree hard enough to nearly split it.
The sight was jarring—her dazzling maid uniform clashed violently with the brutal efficiency of her movements.
In an instant, she'd handled two creatures that posed immediate threat to Luke.
Frey and Vayne both flinched in shock.
They hadn't expected this breathtaking, cold, expressionless maid to have that kind of combat power.
Yurna lowered her leg and stood at Luke's side, and the dark creatures actually hesitated—wary, unwilling to rush her all at once.
Her amethyst eyes held not the slightest ripple of emotion. Her delicate, icy face remained perfectly blank.
To be honest, this was Luke's first time seeing Yurna fight too, and even he was surprised.
He'd always known she was a battle maid.
The palace's hiring requirements demanded at least Unyielding-tier strength.
But Luke only knew Yurna cleared that bar. He didn't know how far above it she stood.
From what he'd just seen, she was at least Fearless-tier.
Luke's sense of safety skyrocketed.
"Worth every coin I've spent feeding you, Yurna. Get them!"
Luke instantly got brave again. He pointed his long blade forward, barking orders like a commander.
Yurna ate a lot, and she'd never missed a meal since following Luke. On top of that, she drew a fifty-gold weekly salary.
Finally—finally—her paycheck was doing something.
Yurna didn't hesitate. She drove off the ground and charged the remaining dark creatures head-on.
Her black short blade, already stained with blood, gleamed coldly—somehow looking even sharper now.
The three dark creatures roared and met her charge.
They collided in a blur.
Yurna's combat power was terrifying, but taking three at once still put pressure on her. Even so, she didn't show a hint of emotion.
Luke couldn't step in to help her, because the two monsters she'd knocked away had recovered and were lunging back at him.
The shapeshifter's chest bones were shattered—if it were human, it would be dying. But it could still move, and it had become even more frenzied.
The bloodsucker looked almost fine. The gash on its arm was already starting to close.
As a demon born from dark corruption, damage from ordinary weapons was reduced. Holy-aspected weapons hurt it far more.
Now the two of them moved in from front and back, trying to clamp Luke in a pincer.
But with only two, Luke didn't panic.
He swept his long blade—wind tore through the forest, whipping leaves into a storm.
Then Luke moved.
His figure flashed forward, straight at the shapeshifter.
Wind intent coiled around his blade, and over it—Wuju Sword Intent layered in, compressing inward at his will, restrained and plain.
But when he struck—
A long cut opened across the shapeshifter's chest, and blood burst out in a spray.
It howled in agony.
Shapeshifters were once human, and even after transforming, they still retained human awareness—though most of it was drowned by a craving for slaughter.
Luke didn't hold back.
After the first slash, a second strike followed seamlessly—cold light flickered, and the blade took its throat cleanly.
The scream stopped mid-syllable.
A deep cut opened across its neck, neat as a single red line.
Its head wobbled—
And dropped to the ground.
Movement behind him—Luke slipped sideways and widened distance. The bloodsucker's attack missed, and it snarled with irritation.
Then it did something vile.
It pounced onto the severed neck and began drinking the blood pouring out.
The demon's body—wrapped in black vapor—swelled almost instantly, growing thicker, stronger. And its wounds visibly began healing faster.
"You really don't waste anything," Luke muttered, scalp prickling.
He charged without hesitation.
His blade came down, and Sweeping Blade burst out as he dashed in, refusing to let the bloodsucker keep growing.
Bloodsucker demons lived up to their name.
The more blood they drank, the stronger they became.
Luke just hadn't expected it to drink its own ally's blood too.
Absolutely no standards.
The bloodsucker sensed the incoming slash and leapt wildly aside, landing behind Luke, low to the ground on all fours.
Its mouth was coated in blood. In those cloudy white eyes, you could actually see rage boiling.
At the same time, Frey and Vayne's situation wasn't great either.
Frey had enough room to handle a bloodsucker on her own. Her Icebone Blade hacked again and again, carving real damage into the monster.
But the thing was tough—thick hide, stubborn flesh—she couldn't finish it quickly, and worrying about Vayne almost made her lose focus and get clipped.
On the road from Freljord to Demacia, they'd run into two dark creatures, but those fights were different.
Frey would lead the offense, Vayne would support from the side, and the two of them would work together against one target.
Today wasn't like that at all.
This forest was packed with darkness.
With her lack of real combat experience, Vayne had been forced to fight one alone.
And she wasn't afraid.
She was unnervingly calm.
Her opponent was a shapeshifter—wolf-like. From the outline of its body and face, you could tell it had probably been a woman before it transformed.
Corrupted by dark power, shapeshifters weren't human anymore.
Frey had told her that once.
If it wasn't human, then Vayne wouldn't show mercy.
She used her agility to kite the werewolf shapeshifter, slipping away from attack after attack by a hair's breadth.
At the same time, she fired holy-water-soaked silver bolts from her wrist crossbow, each hit making the creature howl.
Effective.
Vayne's black eyes sharpened, confidence rising.
Silver bolts hurt shapeshifters more too.
As more and more bolts stuck into the monster, blood slicked its body, and its face twisted in pain—
Vayne felt herself getting excited.
She raised the crossbow again, aimed for its head, and went to pull the trigger—
Click.
Nothing.
Out of bolts?
Vayne glanced down.
In the next instant, the shapeshifter—realizing the same thing—let out a furious roar and surged forward, faster than before, lunging right into her space.
Vayne didn't freeze.
The claws came down—she retreated instantly, dodging the strike.
The monster snapped at her—she flicked her right hand down her pant leg and drew a short dagger, barely catching its fang-filled maw before it could clamp shut.
After blocking that bite, Vayne broke away, her expression darkening.
She realized her mistake.
She hadn't managed her silver bolts. She'd fired too many too fast.
Plenty hit, but none were decisive.
A shapeshifter's strength far exceeded a human's. Letting it drag her into close quarters was a massive disadvantage.
And right now, no one could help her.
She had to create distance—but the shapeshifter stayed glued to her.
With every narrowly avoided, nearly fatal strike, Vayne felt herself getting more excited.
Every cell in her body seemed to sink into the fight, trembling with adrenaline.
And as that excitement rose, power began surging through her—from everywhere, all at once.
Between dodges, she found openings to counterattack with the dagger.
Still, the gap in raw strength remained. One mistake—
And she was slammed to the ground.
That female werewolf face roared inches from her.
Two claws pinned her shoulders. She couldn't move.
The gaping mouth hovered over her—
And the terror of imminent death dragged her straight back to two years ago, the night she saw that demon.
That night, she'd hit the ground, shaking all over, unable to move at all.
Now that feeling was back, as if it had never left.
"Vayne!"
Frey's shout snapped across the forest.
Vayne's eyes flashed—like she'd been yanked back into reality. Black fire burned in her gaze.
In the next second, strength came from nowhere.
Her right arm wrenched free of the claw pinning it, and in a single motion she yanked out one last hidden silver bolt—
And drove it straight into the shapeshifter's head as it lunged to bite.
The monster went rigid.
The light in its eyes scattered and vanished.
Its claws loosened. Its massive body collapsed, limp, its open mouth dropping onto Vayne's shoulder—no longer able to close.
Blood erupted from where the silver bolt had pierced in, and part of it splattered across Vayne's face.
Vayne lay still, staring up at the canopy as warm blood slid down her cheeks like rain.
In that moment, something inside her woke up.
Pleasure.
Revenge.
The scorching heat of violence slammed through her veins, and she felt a rush of ecstatic joy.
Her heart hammered wildly—so loud she could hear every beat.
Thump.
Thump.
Each one sent fresh waves of bliss rolling through her, excitement surging higher, power flooding in without end.
She shoved the shapeshifter off her, sat up, and dragged in a breath—
And suddenly the world felt different.
Her vision was razor-clear, like the whole forest had sharpened into focus. The sensation was like being drunk… except far stronger than any drunkenness.
"Vayne—are you okay?!" Frey forced her bloodsucker back with her Icebone Blade, glanced at the dazed Vayne, and shouted in concern.
"I'm fine." Vayne heard her, looked over, then stood up with her dagger in hand and rushed back into the fight.
Frey's expression shifted into surprise almost immediately.
Vayne had gotten stronger.
Her face was cold and steady, and as she fought alongside Frey, the two of them cut the bloodsucker down in short order.
"Teacher—did you see that?! I'm stronger!" Vayne stared at the fallen bloodsucker, the thrill rising again. She turned to Frey with bright excitement.
This battle wasn't like before. She wasn't just support anymore.
Frey stared at her for a moment and froze.
There was something in that child's eyes—an exhilaration and joy Frey had never seen before.
That eager, praise-seeking look on Vayne's face suddenly felt… unfamiliar.
After a brief hesitation, Frey still asked, "How did you suddenly get so much stronger?"
Vayne said excitedly, "I don't know. It feels like it was always mine—this power helps me kill!"
Frey unconsciously took a step back. She didn't know why, but a bad feeling crawled up her spine.
She couldn't explain it.
"We need to help Your Highness," Frey said, forcing her thoughts away. She could hear fighting on Luke's side and moved to assist.
Over there, Luke's fight was reaching its end too.
As he kept cutting, even the bloodsucker that had drunk its ally's blood had accumulated too many wounds to heal through.
Luke drove his blade into its chest.
The demon howled once, then collapsed, dead weight hitting the forest floor.
And nearby, Yurna—who'd been holding off three dark creatures alone—finished her fight as well.
Blood stained her maid uniform. Her black short blade was slick with fresh red.
A faint smear of blood lay across her pale, breathtaking profile. Paired with her utterly expressionless face, it created a strangely different kind of beauty.
"Your Highness… Miss Yurna…" Frey arrived with Vayne and saw the fight here was already over.
Luke flicked the blood from his long blade and glanced back.
When his eyes landed on Vayne, he noticed her usually icy face looked unusually excited.
Her cheeks were flushed, and the blood on her face hadn't even dried yet. Her clothes were smeared too—she'd clearly fought hard.
No idea whether she cared about the mess, but Luke definitely did.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pack, tossed it at her, and said, "Wipe up."
Vayne caught it without comment and started cleaning the blood from her face.
Frey's tone turned strange as she looked around. "This place—"
She didn't even finish.
Her face changed again.
Luke felt it too and turned sharply.
More dark creatures were appearing—humanoid bodies wrapped in black vapor like the bloodsuckers, but thinner, weaker-looking silhouettes.
"Wraiths?!" Frey's expression jolted with shock. She raised her Icebone Blade, baffled. "Why are so many dark creatures gathered here?"
Most of the time, a situation like this meant one thing:
Something nearby was drawing them in.
Vayne paused mid-wipe, saw the swarm of wraiths, lowered the handkerchief, and drew her dagger again.
The excitement in her eyes hadn't faded.
If anything, she looked like she was looking forward to killing every last one.
Luke frowned, scanning the woods, feeling something deeply off.
Before he could say anything, the wraiths attacked together—howling in strange, grating cries as they surged at the group.
They were fast. They weren't as strong as bloodsuckers, but they had one annoying advantage: much higher resistance to ordinary weapons.
After carving down two, Luke had already figured that out.
His sword was expensive, but it didn't have a holy aspect built in, so cutting wraiths was more effort than he wanted.
Luke knew a bit about wraiths: they were formed from the grudges of the dead, and some powerful ones even retained memories from their past lives.
Basically… like ghosts.
"These are low-tier wraiths, but why are there so many?" Frey muttered.
Her Icebone Blade was holy-aspected—two swings, one wraith. Clean.
Yurna was simply strong enough not to care what she was fighting—she dropped them just as fast.
Vayne's dagger also carried holy blessings, and with how much stronger she'd become, she actually kept pace with everyone else.
And with every wraith she killed, that same excitement spilled off her like heat.
There were a lot of these low-tier wraiths.
Luke got a taste of dungeon-grinding fun… and then got sick of it after a few swings.
Endless waves were not the answer.
"Bang!"
Suddenly, Luke heard a gunshot.
He froze.
In his vision, a bullet glowing with white light slammed into a wraith.
A shriek ripped the air—and the wraith was erased completely, drowned in holy light.
"Bang!"
Another shot. Another wraith dropped.
This was ridiculously efficient.
Luke's eyes lit up. He turned toward the gunfire, and his expression shifted into complete lack of surprise.
The others also looked over.
A man in a gray coat had appeared. The signature coat hung on him like a long trench, his dark skin set off by a cold, hard face.
In his hands were two silver-white pistols of an unusual design, their muzzles shining with light.
Sentinel of Light—Lucian!
In Demacia, if you heard gunfire, Luke couldn't think of anyone else it could be besides Lucian.
With Lucian joining the fight, the wraiths vanished at nearly double the speed.
Those twin relic pistols were absolute executioners against low-tier wraiths—one shot, one kill.
Frey, well-read, stared at the guns as if remembering something. "A Sentinel of Light?"
Vayne shot her a curious look, clearly wanting to ask what that meant.
She was curious about the pistols too.
"All I know is they're an ancient order. It seems like they've been protecting peace across Runeterra since forever," Frey said simply. In truth, she didn't know much either.
After the Ice Witch killed her child, Frey had searched everywhere for power to fight darkness—visiting many places, reading countless books.
In one book, she'd stumbled on a mention of the Sentinels of Light.
An organization dedicated to fighting darkness and preserving peace since ages past. Their traces could be found in corners of Runeterra all over the world.
Mysterious.
Every Sentinel of Light carried a relic that could battle darkness.
Lucian's twin pistols were clearly that.
Frey had once tried to seek them out and failed. In the end, she found another way to gain strength.
She just hadn't expected to run into a Sentinel of Light in Demacia.
By now, the fight was in its final moments.
Lucian shot down the last wraith that tried to flee, and the battle ended.
He walked over on his own and asked, "I was passing by and sensed a heavy concentration of dark energy here. What happened?"
A Sentinel's sensitivity to darkness was as sharp as any demon hunter's.
His voice was low, and he sounded like his breath didn't have much strength behind it.
Looking at those two guns, Luke could tell what that meant.
Lucian's wife had probably already been taken.
Luke shook his head at the question. "We were just passing through too."
Who would've thought a simple investigation would turn into this mess?
Luke had been ready to head back and write a report.
Seeing no one had clear answers, Lucian looked at the shapeshifter and bloodsucker corpses on the ground and introduced himself.
"My name is Lucian. I'm a demon hunter passing through."
"I'm Frey. I'm a demon hunter too. We're together," Frey said, not exposing his identity.
Sentinels of Light walked the world. It wasn't forbidden to reveal who they were—most of the time, it just wasn't necessary.
Part of the mystery mattered.
After the quick introductions, Lucian learned their names.
His gaze fell on Luke. He rolled the name in his mind a few times, then his eyes sharpened.
"You're… that prince?"
Luke sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. "Even trying to keep a low profile, I still got recognized, huh?"
Truly—outstanding people shine anywhere they go.
Vayne glanced at him, completely unwilling to comment on the sudden self-admiration.
"I've heard some things about you, Your Highness," Lucian said. He bowed in a proper greeting. "Prince Luke."
Luke hadn't given a family name, but Lucian had spent time in the capital a month ago. He'd never met the prince, but he'd heard plenty.
A man named Luke with a face like that could only be the prince.
Recognizing him at a glance wasn't hard.
He just hadn't expected to see him here.
As a Demacian, a bow was only right.
"At ease," Luke said, waving it off. "Let's deal with what's in front of us first. We can talk after."
The ground was littered with dark-creature bodies. The smell of blood was thick enough to make your head ache.
"Generally, when a place draws large numbers of dark creatures, it means there's something here that attracts them," Lucian said, pacing slowly and scanning the surroundings. "If I'm not mistaken, there's a wraith nest nearby."
Over the years, he'd traveled Runeterra and fought more dark creatures than he could count.
Experience-wise, he outclassed even Frey.
Frey could tell there was something drawing the wraiths.
Lucian could say with certainty: there was a nest.
"This dense darkness is coming from it," Lucian continued, frowning deeply. "Inside, there's definitely a stronger wraith. If I'm right, it's at a critical stage of transformation."
The dark energy in the air was intense—dangerously so.
"We have to stop it fast," Lucian said. "Otherwise, I don't know how many people will suffer."
Frey agreed, but she still asked for Luke's decision. "What do you think, Your Highness?"
Luke considered it and asked, "If we go back and call for help… is there time?"
If this was true, then the three missing people from Kerr Village might be connected to that nest.
Luke's current plan was simple: go back, bring people, and flatten the nest.
Why should this tiny group grind an unknown-difficulty dungeon?
He just didn't know enough about dark creatures to judge properly.
Lucian shook his head. "Wraiths don't stay in one place forever. Once it finishes transforming, it'll go hunting elsewhere. If we leave now, we won't catch it in time."
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